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On The Threshold

Long ago
you painted a picture for me
of a house with purple walls
somewhere between the city and the beach.
I had closed my eyes then
and heard you sing
of a love found and lost.
I tried to find it again, but
it was gone
that fleeting look of tenderness in your eyes,
so was the picture
and I thought it to be
another one of my reverie.

And yet, months later
here I stand
on the threshold
of that figment of your imagination.
How did you make it real?
When did you show me the way to it?
I think I know the answers deep down…
But, what I don’t know
is the way forward from here.
Should I knock on the door
or should I just walk past it?
Would you smile when you see me,
would you let me in?
and if you do
would there be a way out again
for me?

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